Sunday Morning
by lizstomania
Summary: Tony/Maxxie morning lovings. From Maxxie's POV. Language. Sex. I don't own these characters.


I think people forget the value of a sunrise. When you're awake and the rest of the world is asleep, there exists a certain kind of beauty, a beautiful solitude. Everything is quiet and misty and you never expect to wake up with a six-foot-something, brown-haired, blue-eyed friend of yours, naked, in your bed with their hands around your cock. You just don't.

But there he was, Tony Fucking Stonem, womanizer extraordinaire, boyfriend of one Michelle Richardson, thought by all to be extremely straight, in my bed, waking me with a hand job at five in the fucking morning. Did I say straight? Straight doesn't crawl into bed with another boy, grasp a half-hard cock firmly in both hands and stroke. Straight doesn't nuzzle collarbones and nip jawbones. Straight does not act like Tony is acting right now. Tony is acting very Not Straight and I can't be arsed to care.

His hands are fucking everywhere. All over, twisting and pulling and feathering and teasing. I'm dying, I'm melting and falling apart and all that is holding me together is Tony's long, graceful fingers and his warm, wet mouth. He's kissing me now, like he wants to crawl inside me and never leave and the way he's rutting against me I just may let him. Oh god, oh god, everything about him is hot, I feel like we're on fire and how has an alarm not gone off somewhere? How is the world not completely aflame right now?

He's kissing a trail down my chest and I didn't think it was possible to get any harder and then his mouth is on me and I'm so hard I could die and my hips are bucking and I'm squeaking and he's chuckling and his hands are holding me in place and oh god, his mouth is hot and wet and everywhere, licking, sucking, kissing, blowing and I am dying, dying, dying. One hand in his hair, the other twisted in the sheets, I'm completely his right now and he fucking knows it, the bastard, and I swear I said no at some point, but right now I cannot even imagine why I would ever think to deny myself this. Tony's no expert, but he's so fucking excited about it, I can feel his cock poking my leg and I know that if it came down to it, I would let him fuck me and right now, I'm twitching at the thought of it.

Then holy shit, I'm coming and coming hard and Tony is taking it all like a fucking champ and I look down, his eyes are closed, cheeks hollowed, and I swear the bugger is enjoying this more than I am which is almost impossible, I'm fucking on cloud nine right now. And out of nowhere, he's completely on top of me, kissing me like I've never been kissed before, his hands are all over, caressing my sides, pulling my hair and his mouth is hot and salty and sweet and I know that if he doesn't fuck me right now I may just stop fucking breathing.

I reach over for the lube I keep in the bedside table and he goes still for a moment, a tiny bit of fear in his eyes. I hand it to him and spread my legs a bit and I see the fear burn away and excitement takes its place. Yes, this is, on the whole, a horrible idea. I've never gone into details with my friends about my sex life so none of them know that I've never actually had _sex sex_ with anyone. I don't exactly count blow jobs and hand jobs as _sex_ and I'm a little surprised at how excited I am at the idea of Tony taking my virginity. Not that I plan on letting him know that.

At some point, while I was lost in my head, Tony managed to lube up his fingers and crawl down my body and I'm brought furiously back to the present when a warm, blunt object circles the innermost part of me and pushes through. And holy fucking mother of fucking Christ is it good, better than anything I could have done for myself and better than anything I could have ever imagined and I want to shout for him to move and move and never ever stop but I can't seem to get the words out, all that escapes me is a strangled sort of moaning-grunt and I feel the breath of his laughter against my thigh and then he's there he's there he's there inside me and we're moving and he's groaning and our foreheads are touching, my legs around his hips, sweat everywhere and he's pounding into me and I'm hard again and oh holy _fuck_ are my insides on fire.

We're kissing again, mouths open so we can breathe, though it seems a lost art to me at the moment. Hands are flying everywhere, pulling and pushing and it's exquisite, he fits inside me so perfectly I'm afraid no one will ever, _ever_ be as good as this and a tiny bit of me breaks apart at the thought that this may just be the only time this happens but then he's angling differently and he hits this spot inside I didn't know existed and I'm howling, coming like a fucking train and Tony bellows out this incredible moan and I can feel him coming too and then he collapses on top of me, kisses my nose and my forehead and then falls asleep, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, completely oblivious to the come cooling between us and the fact that he's still inside me.

I'm still breathing hard when my dad opens the door, carrying a basket, takes two steps in and freezes. His eyes widen and I can't help but laugh, my laugher wakes Tony up a bit. He rolls over, out of me, with a sigh and just goes "Hello, Mr. O. Lovely morning, isn't it?' and then buries his face in my shoulder and throws an arm over me. My dad just stands there, gaping, as I try to make it look like I wasn't just shagging the shit out of a friend of mine. Eventually he backs out of the room, closing the door behind him and Tony goes 'Finally' and kisses my throat once more before falling back asleep. I take a deep, deep breath and wonder exactly what he meant by 'Finally.'


End file.
